


Seek happy nights to happy days

by MynameisTyberia



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Kink, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Work In Progress, grindelwald didn't happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MynameisTyberia/pseuds/MynameisTyberia
Summary: He is the sinner





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you're all aware, Graves is Graves and Grindelwald didn't happen.  
> Graves is a moody but protective human being. 
> 
> Also, I hate myself. 
> 
> ENJOY

It starts like any other time they meet.

Credence is handing out flyers. He’s shuffling on his feet as the people walk pass him and ignore his outstretched hand. He doesn’t really care for these unknown faces. He doesn’t care for what they think of him. He doesn’t care if they take any of the pamphlets or if they continue to walk past him as if he is invisible. He doesn’t care if they believe in witchcraft or not. They are all sinners.

We are all sinners.

He is the sinner.

He isn’t looking at any of their faces. Instead, he’s looking at the small white mark on his shoes when he sees the slight movement in the corner of his eye. He knows who it is. He doesn’t even have to make any sign to show him that he’s acknowledged his presence. If he looks straight at him then he knows that the blood in his body will make its way south and he doesn’t want Graves to see what is happening to him. He just continues to stand there, attempting to grab the attention of the people walking by, attempting to give out flyers. He glances at the shadow that’s leaning against the wall of the alleyway. Credence can see the mouth set in a line, there is no clear emotion that Credence can read on the older man’s face.  

Credence lets his mind wander. He thinks about Graves’ hands lightly running down his back, a soothing gesture, a gesture that Credence leans into. He thinks about those hands grabbing at him, nails dragging at any piece of skin that he can reach and then Credence is imagining something else. Something sinful. He imagines a fully clothed Graves standing at the mouth of the alleyway, much like the same way he’s standing now, but Credence is next to him. He’s kneeling naked at his feet with a black thin collar around his neck. And Credence wants.

Oh how he _wants._

He wants those hands to hold him in a tight embrace. He wants those fingers running through his hair while Graves is whispering in his ear about how Credence is such a good boy. He wants Graves to teach him how to make him happy with many demonstrations. He wants Graves to keep him, not as complete equals but as close as someone like he could be to a man like Graves. He wants Graves to look after him, to care for him. He wants Graves to be his _daddy._

And isn’t that just _sinful_.

The last thought is the thing that throws him out of his imaginary happy world he’s currently experiencing. He takes a glance at the alleyway and Graves isn’t there. It isn’t unusual for Graves to just disappear on Credence but normally he disappears after the same lecture he gives Credence every single time. Credence tries to not look around too quickly. He tries so hard to not make it look like he’s seeking Graves out, to not make it look like he’s disappointed that Graves hasn’t spoken to him today. He tries not to look upset.

He can feel the man behind him, a hand is on his shoulder and before he can even react to the touch he’s being dragged towards the alleyway by Graves. Credence can see the faces of the strangers walking past, they’re all still a blur but Credence notices that not one person notices him. Not one of those faces notice _them._

When they reach the alleyway, Graves pushes Credence against the cold brick wall. The younger man wants to slide down the wall and curl up to try and protect himself from the force of the older man but Graves is holding him up, he is a wall himself. “What was that?”, Graves is looking at him with dark eyes. Credence can’t help but look into the older man’s eyes, he can feel fear and something a little more inappropriate filling him up. “Well? What was that?”

Credence isn’t completely sure what he’s talking about. “I-I don’t” He bows his head. He attempts to look at the floor. “I don’t understand Mr Graves.”

Graves scoffs. “You were somewhere else. You weren’t focusing.” He steps away from Credence, letting him go at the same time. “You weren’t focusing on me.”

Credence can’t help but fall to his knees in front of Graves, he can feel the heat rush to his cheeks. He can only imagine what they look like right now and the image makes him redden even more. He tries to stand, head bowed. “No.” He raises his head and looks at Graves, there is something else in the older man’s eyes and it makes Credence bow his head further. ”Stay.” Credence nods. “Now, tell me what you were focusing on.” 

“I was thin-thinking Mr Graves.” He can feel Graves’ eyes on him. It feels like a brand.  

“Hm. And what exactly were you thinking about Credence?”

“I. Its not im-important.” Not a complete lie, it wouldn’t be important to Graves. It doesn’t change the mission. It was only important to Credence.  

“Don’t lie to me Credence.” Graves’ hand is at his shoulder, pulling him up and now Credence is looking into those eyes. “Let’s talk about this in a more _private_ place.”

There’s a pop and Credence feels himself disappearing from the alleyway.

***

When Credence opens his eyes again, he’s in an unfamiliar place with Graves looking at him again. The older man murmurs something and then there is a sudden burst of light as the room is illuminated.

It takes a moment for Credence to become used to the light and then he lets himself study his surroundings. The room that they’re in is large, its larger than the church Credence calls home and the items that furnish it are extravagant and remind him of Graves.

Graves is grabbing at him again, dragging him towards the sofa. “Sit.” Credence doesn’t, he stands beside the sofa with his head bowed. “Don’t make me ask again.” Graves’ voice has dropped an octave, it triggers something within Credence that makes him want to create as much distance between him and Graves. The older man moves and Credence knows that the next thing will be Graves pushing him down onto the sofa, so he sits before Graves has the chance to touch him. “Good. Now tell me, what were you thinking about back there?” Credence isn’t looking at Graves, he’s focusing all his attention on his shoes. “Tell me Credence.”     

 “Y-you. I mean, the mi-mission”

There’s a small sigh. “And what did you find out?”

“Not-nothing.” He bows his head. He’s still focusing all his attention on Graves’ shoes. He senses that something has changed between them after his reply. It isn’t something that is completely noticeable but its obvious to Credence.  

“Hm. Come with me.” And Credence is being dragged by Graves again. This time he’s dragged off the sofa and out of the room that they’re currently in. He’s placed on a chair by Graves and watches as he elegantly makes small flourishes with the wand in his hand. The movements are chopping and cooking food. Credence knows that he could become addicted to watching a different side of Graves.   “You’re doing well. But you’re so skinny. You look so _vulnerable_.” He wants to argue with Graves. He wants to say that no, he isn’t vulnerable, if anything he is the opposite of vulnerable but the fear of Graves focusing all his attention on him stops him from doing anything. He watches as Graves busies himself around the kitchen, Graves looks so comfortable and happy but Credence can still sense his dominating aura, it doesn’t frighten him per se, it just unnerves him. Credence has never seen Graves be as elegant and calm as he is right now. He’s never seen the man so human-like in such a normal atmosphere. “Sometimes I worry about how _breakable_ you are my boy.” Credence flinches at Graves’ tone of voice, its not his normal tone, it isn’t even the one that he uses when he’s slightly annoyed. This tone is more caring and it suits him. “Sometimes I worry about how easily _influenced_ you are. I worry that you don’t have anyone to look after you properly.”

Credence feels like he knows where this conversation is going and he wants to beg for it but it isn’t acceptable for their friendship. “I already have someone who looks after me Mr. Graves.” The older man scoffs. “Ma looks after me in her own way.” The second its out of his mouth, he realises his mistake. He can see the moment that Graves latches onto his words. He laughs and Credence watches the muscles in his back move from it.

“If you’re insinuating that beating you until you cry. Until you call for me in the night is looking after you then you haven’t had the right form of care Credence.” While he’s been speaking, Graves has moved from the kitchen counter to sitting across from Credence. He holds his wand in one hand, waving it in small minor movements in the air until there is a spoon placed on the table next to the bowl that Graves has placed there. Credence bows his head, a movement that gives him some sort of wall between himself and Graves. “You know she doesn’t care for the way that you should be cared for and you know that you need to be cared for properly.” Credence can feel Graves’ hand at his chin. He can feel Graves forcing his chin up until he’s forced to look into Graves’ eyes. “Let me be the one to look after you. Let me give you what I think you need.” He knows he should argue. He knows that he should say no but the darker side of his mind, the _sinful_ part of him imagines Graves holding him and touching him in the way that people whisper about in darkened corners. He doesn’t argue though, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods. “Good. Right now, I think you need to eat.” Graves lets go of his chin. Credence fights the urge to bow his head again but he just goes to grab the spoon but Graves is a lot quicker. “No little one.” Credence places his hand back onto his knee. He watches as Graves places the spoon in the bowl of soup before bringing the spoon to his mouth and blowing onto it before bringing it to Credence’s mouth. “I told you that I’m looking after you now. So let me.”

The spoon is so close to his mouth. He opens up for Graves and for a split second, Credence thinks about opening his mouth for something else, something oh so sinful that he can physically feel the blood rush to his cheeks. He isn’t looking at Graves right now but he knows that Graves is watching his every movement. “Good boy.”        

It continues like this for several minutes. Graves feeds Credence and smiling every time Credence swallows another spoonful of soup. Credence think that it’s an intimate gesture but a gesture that shows care and affection.

 “More?” Credence nods slightly. “You sure?” Again, he nods. “Okay. I think you’ve had enough anyway.” Graves places the spoon back on the table. Credence watches Graves as he leans towards him with a small piece of fabric in his hand. Graves is so close that Credence can smell the older man’s scent. He smells of woodland and cinnamon, the scents suit Graves and it makes Credence feel warm. He watches as Graves lightly wipes at the corner of Credence’s mouth. “You had something so I thought I’d get it for you.” Credence is too shocked to say anything. He watches as Graves stands up and walks towards Credence. “It’s time to take you home, little one.” Graves grabs his hand.

Credence doesn’t remember getting home that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! 
> 
> Yeah I know guys. I may be going to hell but whatever. 
> 
> Not completely sure if Graves is too weird maybe? But I swear he's gonna be all fluffy and cute soon. 
> 
> I have no idea when I'm gonna update again but enjoy this!

The second time they meet, Credence isn’t completely sure whether he’s being punished from above or if he’s being rewarded for some good action.  

This time, Credence is alone in the church. His sisters have been sent by their mother to pass out flyers to the strangers walking the streets. His Ma is out preaching about the bad intentions that witches and wizards have. Credence has been left behind, a punishment for his actions over the last few weeks but Credence likes to think that she’s left him behind because of the cold that is slowly affecting him.

He’s lying in bed, the covers are pushed up to his chin, he can feel a fever increasing within him. At the moment, he’s warm, but the feeling of coldness is creeping into him, its lurking within him. 

To stop him from focusing on the sudden fever that is racking his body, he closes his eyes. He thinks about Graves. He thinks about the look that was on the older man’s face when he was feeding him soup. He thinks about the warmth and happiness that filled Graves’ eyes every time Credence swallowed the soup that was offered to him. He thinks about how soft Graves’ hand was. The memory of Graves holding his hand makes Credence warm inside. When he thinks about Graves’ fingers connecting with his own, it triggers something within Credence. He imagines the skills that those fingers possess. Credence thinks about how those fingers could pinch and grab and leave little red marks on Credence’s pale skin. In the next moment, those fingers would be caressing Credence, soothing the marks left just a moment before.

That thought only leads to the inevitable.

He imagines Graves now.

There’s a desk and Graves is sitting at it, pen in hand, writing on the paper in front of him. Credence is sitting opposite him. He’s watching the elegant movement of Graves’ wrist at every flourish of the pen. “Stop.” He doesn’t know exactly what Graves wants him to stop doing but when he tries to open his mouth to speak, no sound comes out. When dream Graves doesn’t stop writing or look up from what he’s doing, Credence continues to watch. He looks at Graves’ face, there’s a look of concentration etched onto his features. His eyes are dark but completely focused on his task and all Credence wants is those eyes completely focused on him. His mouth is set in a firm line and Credence imagines that mouth on his, forcing his mouth open. He imagines Graves’ tongue tasting every inch of his mouth, marking it as his own. He wants Graves’ mouth kissing at his neck, he wants him to bite so that it leaves a mark. Credence goes back to focusing on Graves’ fingers. Those fingers which contain so much strength, they could hold him down, leave dark marks on Credence’s skin. He imagines what those fingers would feel like inside of him, stretching him open for something much bigger and wider. “Stop staring Credence.” His voice has dropped an octave and this time, Graves is looking at him and Credence realises that no, he really doesn’t want those eyes completely focusing on him. Those eyes don’t show the happiness that Credence remembers, it shows something a little close to disappointment.

Credence looks away. “I wasn’t staring Mr. Graves”

There’s a scoff from Graves. “What have I told you about lying to me Credence?” Graves’ voice drops even lower and Credence has this sudden fear that he’s said the wrong thing. He doesn’t answer. “Answer me.”

Credence thinks about not answering but, judging by the tone of hardness in Graves’ voice, he doesn’t want to push him further anymore. “You told me not to lie Mr. Graves.”

Credence doesn’t want to look at Graves but the older man’s hand is at his chin, lifting it up until Credence’s gaze meets Graves’ dark one. “No little one” – his voice has lightened a little, its dropped the hardness – “To me. I told you not to lie _to me_.” He removes his hand from Credence’s chin and he fights the urge to lower his gaze to Graves’ lips. “You can lie to others but never to me little one.” Credence nods and he watches as a smile forms on Graves’ face. “Good boy.” And Credence can’t help it, the tiniest moan leaves his mouth before he has the chance to stop it. as soon as it leaves his mouth, he watches Graves’ reaction and hopes that he hasn’t heard it.

He has.

If it is possible, Graves’ smile grows wider. It reminds Credence of a vicious predator and in this situation, Credence is the prey. “You like that?” Credence nods. “Oh, little one, what am I going to do with _you_?” Graves is smiling even more and it makes Credence just a little more frightened. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Y-yes.”

“Hm. Yes what?” Credence is suddenly very confused and it must have shown on his face because Graves continues, “I look after you Credence. I _care_ for you. What do good little boys call the person who looks after them, little one?” The question doesn’t really help Credence, he has an idea but he doesn’t want to say it, even if its only to the dream Graves. “Come on, little one. What do you call me?”

“Sir?”

The smile on Graves’ face drops, only slightly but Credence notices it. “Better. But we both know that isn’t what you want to call me.”

Credence thinks about it. He thinks about saying it and he does. “ _Daddy_. Yes Daddy.”

The smile is back. Its wider than ever. “There we go Credence. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Graves touches his face but the touch feels different, it doesn’t feel like its part of Credence’s imagination, it doesn’t feel like any other touch that has happened in this dream.

***

When Credence opens his eyes, Graves is there. He’s sitting on the edge of Credence’s bed with his hand on his cheek. “Hello Credence.” His hand is still on Credence’s cheek, almost caressing. “How are you feeling?”

“W-why?” – his mouth has suddenly become extremely dry. “Why are you here Mr. Graves?” He attempts to sit up but Graves is looming above him, one hand on his cheek and the other holding him down to keep him in position. “How did you get in here? You need to leave before Ma sees you.”

The hand that was caressing Credence’s cheek stops. Graves doesn’t remove the hand he just keeps it there, fingertips lightly placed on Credence’s cheek. “Don’t answer my questions with your own, my boy.” His hand goes back to gently caressing, Credence can’t help but close his eyes for a moment and focus on the sensation. “With every question you answer, you can ask one of your own.”

Credence doesn’t open his eyes, he’s still focusing on the sensation of Graves’ hand on his cheek. Its discomfiting, it makes him feel weird, as if there is nothing else in the world that Credence can pay attention to. _“ **Credence**_ ”. The younger man opens his eyes and directly meets the gaze of Graves. His eyes are filled with amusement. Credence nods. “Good. Tell me, how are you feeling little one?”

Credence thinks about lying but realises that Graves is extremely powerful, and he’s definitely powerful enough to know that Credence is lying. “It’s just a fever Mr. Graves. I shall be rid of it in a day or two.”

Credence watches as the amusement in Graves’ eyes alter to something akin to worry. “Let me help you get better.” A moment later, an electric current is running through Credence. Its coming from the hand on his cheek. The shock feels like fire. It feels as if its burning Credence from the inside. He wants to scream but he doesn’t have the energy to open his mouth. After what felt like hours, the pain stops and Graves removes his hand from Credence’s cheek. “Sorry about that. How are you feeling now?”

Now that he has time to focus on it, the fever has disappeared. He feels better. He feels as if he could leave now and wander until he finds Ma and do his usual chores. “Much better Mr. Graves. Thankyou. What was that?”

“Just a small healing spell. Sorry about the spark, I wasn’t sure how you would react to it.” He smiles. “Why have you been avoiding me Credence?”

It takes a moment for Credence to understand the question and when he does, his mind runs through every possible excuse but not one of them seem reasonable. “I-I was busy. Th-the mission-“

“Forget about the mission Credence. I have found the child.”

“What? Who is it?”

Graves waves his hand in a careless motion. “All in good time, little one. But first, Where have you been hm? Why haven’t you called for me?”

And that sparks images of an inappropriate nature. An image of Credence shouting for Graves when he’s focused on touching himself and bringing himself a sinful pleasure that he very rarely indulges in. “I’m sorry Mr. Graves. I didn’t think about it.”

Graves is analysing him, he’s reading every emotion, every movement on Credence’s face. “Hm. And now? Why have you called for me now?” The confusion must have shown on his face because Graves sighs. “Do you not remember calling my name Credence?”

He doesn’t think about his next words. “I was dreaming Mr. Graves.” As soon as he says it, he realises his mistake. He closes his eyes, he doesn’t want to see what emotion is currently on Graves’ face.

“What did your dream entail Credence? Why were you dreaming of me little one?”

Credence doesn’t need to open his eyes to know what look is in Graves’ eyes right now. “It isn’t im-important.”

“Oh but it is. It’s important to me.”

It’s the tone that makes him talk. “You were sitting at your desk, the same one that I saw before, and you were writing.”

“And what were you doing Credence?”

“I was watching you.”

“Watching me Credence? Are you sure that you weren’t _staring_?” And that makes Credence open his eyes. Graves is still looming over him but his hands are placed on either side of Credence. “Were you staring Credence?”

“I. Yes but how, how did you know?”

Graves ignores the question. “What did you do?”

“I kept staring Mr. Graves. You told me not to stop but I, I couldn’t sir. I kept thinking about what it would feel like but I was distracting you.” Graves has moved a little closer now. “I couldn’t stop. You were. You were so close to me.”

“What were you thinking little one?”

Credence doesn’t even try to stop the words from leaving his mouth. “Your mouth. I kept thinking about what it would feel like on my lips. And your fingers, sir, I wondered how they would feel like inside me. I’m sorry Mr. Graves but I couldn’t help it. You looked so focused and I wanted you to focus on me.”

“And did I?”

“ _Yes_.” He’s sobbing now. “Yes Daddy.”

Before he can register what he’s just said, Graves is holding him. Like one would hold a child. “Shush little one. Daddy’s got you. I’ll look after you.” He’s kissing the top of his head. “I’ve got you now little one. Sleep now little one. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while right? I'm having a little bit of a writers block but I thought I'd give you all a Graves chapter, just to change it up a bit.  
> I've not edited this chapter so sorry if there's mistakes. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy guys!

When Graves gets the order, he already knows exactly what the MACUSA plan to do.

When he feels hands hovering at his back, ushering him into the room where all the higher up wizards and Aurors sit and observe his every movement, he knows what the MACUSA want from him, he knows exactly what they are going to attempt to do. He knows that whatever mission or order he’s going to be given, they’re going to use him as the scapegoat for all their actions. 

As he stands there, no one tries to make eye contact with him, so he knows that whatever issue their attempting to get through, its serious. He looks around, attempts to read someone, _anyone’s_ , facial expression but he can’t.

When Madame President looks at him with sorrow in her eyes and fear written all over her face, he knows that as soon as he completes the task that they have for him, he’ll be gone.

They’ll make him disappear.

They’re all whispering but he can’t pick up anything specific, he can’t hear anything concrete to give him any information for what they want him to do, but, by the way they’re all looking at him, with sorrow on their faces, he knows that their words cannot mean anything good.

When Madame President begins to speak, the whole room quietens and shies away from her voice. He doesn’t pay attention to ever word she says but he hears the word _Obscurus_ and _powerful_ , he knows what they’re wanting him to do.

He knows.

He knows that Grindelwald wants the Obscurus. He knows that if Grindelwald finds the child then the magic community will be under threat. He knows that Grindelwald wants a war. He knows that the MACUSA want the child but they’ll destroy it and, if that happens, they’ll force it onto Graves.

He knows.

He knows that there isn’t any way out of this situation. He could run. He could run away from the MACUSA and their followers. But he’d be running for the rest of his life. He could hide. He could hide in a country where no one knows the definition of magic or wizardry and the power and control that the MACUSA have won’t be able to reach him. He could fight. He could fight every wizard who lies to him. He could fight every single Auror that the MACUSA have.

He knows and he’s _angry._

***

The first time he sees Credence, he knows what he is straight away.

He wasn’t looking for the child but when he sees Credence, something within him stops, he becomes frozen when he sees Credence.

The younger man is hunched over himself, he isn’t attempting to make eye contact with the people surrounding him. His eyes are firmly focused on the ground beneath his feet. Graves can see the bruises littering his face, they’re dominating the younger man’s facial features and all he wants to do is touch his face and watch the bruises disappear beneath his hand. He wants to watch his magic race through the younger man’s face and see every expression on Credence’s face.

Although the younger man looks scared, of what or who, Graves isn’t sure, he can sense something different beneath the surface. Its dark and Graves can sense that its threatening to come out, that its threatening to destroy every person in the street. He can sense his own magic trying to come out and if it does, disappearing is going to be the least of his worries.

But it stops.

The dark and powerful thing within the younger man has stopped. Its calm.

And Graves knows.

Without even looking, the Obscurus has fallen straight into his lap. And its speaking to Graves.

Graves knows and he wants to _protect_.

***

Becoming a friend to Credence is a lot easier then he planned.

The poor child was touch-starved, Graves assumed that any touch he did receive was violent and had a bite of venom behind it, so he made sure that his touches were soothing and lingering.

A few smiles and a few touches, and Credence is bending to every whim that Graves has. He knows its wrong, of course he does, but the boy looks at him as if he’s the sun and Credence has never seen it before.

When he shows Credence what he can do, the younger male looks on in awe. He watches the movement of Graves’ wand as it controls the actions of the small feather. The younger man looks at Graves’ mouth as he forms the words and it just feeds into Graves’ ego. Credence never focuses on what magic he’s doing, he only ever pays attention to the movement of Graves’ wrists.  

When he explains to Credence about his mission and about the child, he watches Credence frown. He can sense the power within the younger man trying to fight its way out and Graves want to see it. he wants to see Credence transform into something greater, something powerful but he knows that this isn’t the right time to let that happen. So Graves brings his hand to rest on Credence’s neck and he can sense the Obscurus within the young man quieten down underneath his touch. He lets the younger man lean into the touch.  

***

It takes three days for the penny to drop.

Credence doesn’t know what he is. He doesn’t know how much power he has.

He knows he should tell the younger man. He knows that he should tell Credence and help him to hide. He could run with Credence. They could find a small corner in the world and they could be _happy_.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he watches how the boy leans into every small touch that Graves offers him. He craves the look that Credence gives him every time he offers some food. He watches the boy blush every time he takes the offered food and Graves can’t help it. He imagines how far down that blush goes.

And he _wants_.

***

When he’s standing in the mouth of the alleyway, watching Credence attempt to give his leaflets to the strangers of the city, he takes the time to properly focus on the younger man. He’s hunched over, as if he’s trying to curl up within himself. He isn’t focussing on the people who are passing by or on the comments that are shouted at him by the same strangers, instead, his eyes are firmly planted on the ground beneath his feet.

He wants to move. He wants to place his hand on Credence and soothe him with a warm tone and calming words.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he moves to the wall of the alleyway, attempting to hide from Credence. He observes him again, this time Graves knows that Credence has seen him. He hasn’t attempted to move towards or away from Graves but his body has been angled in a way so that Credence can see his face from where he’s standing. He watches Credence try and fail to give out the remainder of his leaflets.

Graves knows that his mind is wandering. He’s no longer focused on what he’s trying to do, he isn’t even focusing his attention on Graves.

And Graves cannot have that now can he?

***

He knows that he shouldn’t have taken the younger man to his home. But the way Credence stuttered over his excuses, eyes firmly planted on the ground, made something within himself just snap.

MACUSA aren’t going to get the Obscurus. They’re not going to get the chance to destroy Credence from the inside.

Graves isn’t going to let them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while.   
> This chapter is a filler chapter? I just wanted to get something out for you all.   
> I have no idea where this is going but I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> Leave a comment! Drop me an idea! Discuss what you think.

Credence doesn’t wake quickly. It’s a slow and arduous task. He wakes the way that he always does; by assessing the information he obtains from his senses. Credence knows that it’s a silly idea and he knows exactly how time consuming it is, but there has been more times than he can count where he’s woken in an alleyway, with the cold concrete surrounding him on all sides. Waking up like that, with the sudden realisation of where he is and the sudden memory of what happened for him to get there, is frightening, it breaks him to the point where he can feel it claw at him from the inside.

So yes, he knows its silly. But its soothing.

The bed that he’s laying on is unfamiliar. It isn’t lumpy like the one that he normally sleeps on. Its comforting. The grooves of the mattress are soothing for the welts on his back. It feels like heaven for him and he really doesn’t want to leave.

When he stops focusing on what is clearly _heaven_ in an object form, the smell of cinnamon and pine fill his nostrils. It takes his brain a few minutes to find out what this smell reminds him of. It takes him a few minutes to think about _who_ it reminds him of.

Graves.

At that, Credence opens his eyes.

Its dark but Credence can hear a low humming sound. The sound is calming for him. The sound is deep, almost _sensual_ , and Credence definitely doesn’t want to follow that train of thought to its destination.

“Lumos”

There is a spark. A bright light and a second later the room is illuminated. It takes a second for Credence to get used to the sudden light that is attacking his senses. In that moment, Credence still thinks he’s dreaming, that whatever is happening and wherever he is, its all a dream that his own mind has created for him so that he doesn’t have to focus on the devastation that is his life.   

But that small little voice in his mind that only ever seems to voice its opinions at the most inconvenient times, tells him that this isn’t a dream. And Credence wants to tear himself apart until he finds that small, insignificant voice, and destroy it with his bare hands.

The moment passes and just like that, the voice is gone. Its replaced by the deep humming again. When his eyes focus again, he can see Graves sitting beside him. Credence takes a minute to look at the older man. Graves is sitting atop of the blankets. His eyes are closed but there is a look of concentration etched onto his features. His lips are set into a firm line and Credence wants to lean up and taste those lips. He wants to trace those lips with his tongue and he _wants_ the action to surprise Graves. He wants those eyes to open from the sudden touch of the movement and, if Graves would give him permission to, he’d taste the inside of that mouth.

He doesn’t do any of that though.

He just watches Graves. It amazes Credence that the older man still looks so immaculate and _perfect_ even in deep concentration. He envies this moment. If he could, he’d take this moment and burn it into his mind so that he’d atleast have something to dwell on in the times when his mother has the belt in her hands.

“Its rude to stare Credence.”

At the sound of the older man’s voice, Credence looks up from where his eyes were straying to. His eyes automatically look upto Graves’ eyes. The older man’s eyes are still closed and it makes Credence think back to the idea of how immaculate and perfect Graves is.

“You’re still staring.”

Credence bows his head. “I’m S-sorry, Mr. Graves.” There is a hand at Credence’s chin, lifting it up so that his eyes are looking into Graves’ own. “I didn’t mean to stare Mr. Graves.”

Graves tuts. “There is no need to apologise Credence.” His hand goes to Credence’s cheek, lightly stroking it. “I find it very endearing little one.” His hand lingers there for what feels like hours, his eyes are searching for something within Credence, and he can feel _sinful_ part of him arching at the touch, wanting to get closer and get more. He wants to submit to the feeling. He wants to submit to Graves just to see what the older man will do, would he welcome the action or would he be disgusted?

Credence _wants_. He wants like he’s never wanted anything before. He wants to do every sinful thing that men do. He wants Graves to tell him that he’s good while he’s biting marks on Credence’s neck.

The hand at his cheek strokes again. “What are you thinking about little one?”

Credence wants to say the words but he can’t. He’s not ready for Graves’ reaction. “Nothing Mr. Graves.” He attempts to get off the bed so that he can create enough distance between Graves and himself.

It doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. its almost like Graves knows exactly what Credence is going to do before he even knows. So the hand on his chest shouldn’t really be as big as a surprise to Credence, but it is. The fact that the movement isn’t harsh is though.

Credence thinks about struggling. He thinks about trying to moving from under Graves’ hand but a look from Graves stops the thought from becoming anything else. “Where exactly are you going Credence?” He says it in the tone that makes Credence weak, every word wraps around Credence, as if it’s the words that are stopping him from moving and not Graves’ touch. He’s leaning over Credence and all the younger man can smell is _Graves._ All he can smell is _home._

“I-I need to leave Mr. Graves. Ma, s-she doesn’t know w-where I am. She will b-be angry a-at m-me.”

When Credence builds up the courage to look up at the older man’s eyes, he almost wishes he hadn’t. _Almost._ The eyes staring back at him have a hint of sadness and Credence wants so much to look away from those eyes but the _thing_ inside of him makes him stay exactly where it is. The sadness is gone and its replaced by something else, and the _thing_ inside Credence _purrs,_ he can feel it bow down to the force that is Mr. Graves.

“Nonsense little one. Didn’t I say I would look after you?”

He doesn’t stop the whimper from leaving his mouth, but he watches the older man’s face light up from the sound. “Will you let me look after you?” Credence nods. “Will you go to sleep for me little one? Another nod. “Good boy. Daddy will look after you.”   


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back guys! We're kinda getting to the good bit. maybe. possibly. We'll see. 
> 
> Thanks for everyone who has left kudos and comments, it makes me really happy knowing that you're enjoying this!

Credence normally doesn’t dream. Sleeping is the only time where he has some semblance of silence, where he doesn’t have to worry about his Ma and her vicious words. She doesn’t have any control over his sleep. In the few times he does dream, it is always of the _thing_ within him. He thinks it has a name, but he never thinks to mention it, just in case it starts something catastrophic and invincible. Credence knows that he’s not normal, not normal in the same way as the most of the strangers who pass him on the street. Not normal in the way that Ma and his family are. He knows that nobody suffers from the same thing that he suffers from. When he dreams, the thing inside him manifests as smoke, its dark and it _suffocates_. It surrounds him and he knows that he can control it but he doesn’t want to. Credence normally never listens to the urges that the thing within him craves for but sometimes, on the nights when Ma has spent hours teaching him how wrong and sinful he is, he succumbs to what the thing begs for.

He imagines _killing_ her.

He knows how wrong it is. He knows how _sinful_ it is. But dreaming of hurting her in his dream doesn’t mean that he’d act upon it. Dreaming of watching her realise that Credence has become what she’s been hating all these years. He wants to let the smoke wrap around and suffocate her.

Some nights, when he’s spoken to Mr. Graves and his eyes have lingered a little too long, he dreams of swiftness. Something quick so that she wouldn’t suffer. But sometimes, he imagines making her beg. He imagines telling her all the sinful things he’s thought of and then killing her, so that Credence can savour the fact that her last thought is that she failed.     

Most nights though, the dream death of Mary Lou is slow and painful. He savours her fear as she watches Credence form into something evil right before her eyes. He lets her go and then spends hours chasing after her like a deadly game of cat and mouse. Those are the dreams where he feels like the predator that he knows he is and that horrible thought is the thing that stops him from dreaming regularly.

So normally, Credence doesn’t dream.

But now, he dreams of Graves.

He dreams of Graves controlling that thing within him. He imagines him _harnessing_ that power and using it for something else. Graves is already a powerful form of a wizard. One little flick of his wrist leads to Credence being healed with a burning electric spark that dances through his body. He can only imagine how powerful the older man is in a fight-like scenario.

Graves already possesses the control to make any man bow his head in submission. Graves just seeps dominance. But Credence likes to imagine what it would be like if Graves was controlling it; if Graves was controlling _him_. Maybe he wouldn’t do anything untoward with him. Perhaps he might even let him go.

But Credence doesn’t want that.

He wants Graves to force the thing into submission. He wants the thing to be begging for mercy by the time the older man is done with him. But he doesn’t want Graves to break him and let him go. He wants him to break him and then mould him into something else. Something that craves only Graves.

He wants Graves to teach him how to be _good_.

***

The second-time Credence wakes up, he is surrounded by Graves. The older man is embracing him, arms wrapped around him like a protective barrier that keeps him safe from the outside world. Credence watches as Graves nuzzles into his neck and he can’t help but smile.

“What did I say about staring little one?”

Credence can’t help it. He laughs. The sound builds up in his throat and it’s the first time that Credence has laughed in such a long time. The sound must have shocked Graves because the older man is suddenly sitting upright, leaning over Credence. “Did you just laugh Credence?”

Credence tries to hide his face in the pillow. “I’m sorry Mr. Graves.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s cute when you laugh, little one.” His hand strokes through Credence’s hair. “Let me see your pretty face Credence.”

Credence doesn’t want to look. He wants to hide his face further but Graves’ voice isn’t demanding, it sounds so pleading. The hand in his hair has stopped stroking and Credence can’t help but let out a little whine from his throat. Graves chuckles.

“Look at me Credence. And you can have anything you want little one.” He tries to mumble ‘anything’ but it comes out not sounding anything like that. “Yes anything Credence.” The younger man starts to move his head until he’s looking at Graves. “There we are little one.” The hand is back in his hair, petting at Credence. “How are you feeling?”

“Maybe I should leave?”

Graves laughs. A breathy sound that seems to make the thing within him whine. “You tend to not answer my questions.” Credence begins to open his mouth but quickly shuts it when Graves shoots him a look. “No need to apologise my boy, but this question is important.”

“I’m fine Mr. Graves”

Another small laugh. Credence finds himself coming to be really attached to that sound. He thinks he’s beginning to _crave_ it.  “I’m glad to hear it Credence. And no need for formalities anymore.”

Credence blushes. He _doesn’t_ need to think about what he said before. That is one bridge he does not want to cross just yet. “Should I leave?”   

Graves sighs and Credence has one moment to enjoy the hand in his hair before Graves moves. “That’s up to you to decide but I hope you don’t think I’ll let you go back to that place? You know what’s waiting there for you.” Every word feels like a gap that is slowly widening between the two of them. Graves is no longer leaning over Credence, he’s standing at the window, looking at the people scurrying across the street.

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me Mr. Graves.” As soon as it leaves his mouth, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Credence watches as the muscles in Graves’ back tense. He can only imagine the look on Graves’ face.

There is a silence. Graves doesn’t move and Credence wants to say something. Anything if it means that Graves would just look at him.

“I _want_ to take care of you. I want to feed you. I want to buy you things. You deserve so much Credence and I want to be the one to give you it all.” He turns to face Credence. “But if you don’t want that then I’ll let you walk out of here. I’ll let you go back to that place and I’ll let you do whatever you think is right. “

Credence takes a moment to think. Does he want to go back? No. of course not. He doesn’t want to willingly leave Mr. Graves but then come running back every time Ma raises her hand to him. He wants to stay, he wants to let Graves look after him, he wants to be looked after properly but he’s scared.

“I want to stay Mr. Graves.”

Graves turns around, smile plastered over his face. “I’m glad to hear it.” He’s walking back towards Credence; his moves are cat-like and full of grace. He sits at the end of the bed, grabs Credence’s hand and looks at him, smile suddenly replaced by a serious look. “But, before you let me care for you, there is something I have to tell you. Something that you may not like.”

Credence knows that he’s giving Graves a look of confusion. “What’s that Mr. Graves?”

Graves takes a breath.

“You’re the Obscurial, Credence.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw man, I've been neglecting this. But I am back with a writer's block and this is all I could get out. 
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
> Comment & Kudos make me happy

Graves had very few regrets and if asked by anyone, he’d be quick to scoff and state that he had no regrets. He’d like everyone to think that Percival Graves was someone who thinks every risqué action through before going through with it. Every action of his team in MACUSA would be planned and every scenario would be thought and they would know what to do in the worse-case scenarios. Graves meticulously planned his day to day life, from what he would wear for the day to when and what he’d eat.

But Graves did have a few regrets and maybe, just maybe, the way he told Credence about the Obscurus would be one of them.  

Ever since he was completely sure about the Obscurus being within and a part of Credence, he’d been planning on when and where he was going to tell him about it. Part of him wanted to take him to one of the rooms in MACUSA and speak him through it, step by step so that he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the information of it all. At least if he did become overwhelmed, they would both be in the safety of MACUSA and hundreds of Aurors would be able to restrain Credence. But the only problem Graves had with that plan was that there was a very large chance that it would be the downfall of Credence, they’d destroy him in the most slow and vicious way. They’d probably make Graves watch before giving him the same treatment. So, that plan was thrown out of the window.

The other plan Graves had was something a little more thought out, softer and more gentle than the whole ‘take him to MACUSA’ thing. Graves had planned about telling Credence in a more comfortable setting than the harsh lights and atmosphere of MACUSA, something that didn’t scream of _new_ and _fear_. Graves had meticulously planned the small speech that he was going to give Credence, it wasn’t going to be difficult, he was going to use the softest tone he could possibly create. He was going to be affectionate, not unusually so, but the level of affection that Credence wanted from him.

But Graves didn’t follow the plan.

He was going to wait a few days, perhaps even a few weeks, until he knew exactly what he wanted to say. But seeing Credence in his home, seeing him in _his_ space as if he belonged there, just made something within Graves snap. He doesn’t even completely know that he says the words until Credence looks back at him. Almost as soon as he says it, he can see Credence begin to give up control to the Obscurus within. His eyes gloss over and the plumes of black smoke that seem to surround the both seem to be coming from the small lithe body of Credence.

Graves watches the whole process, he’s attempting to think of something spontaneous that will lead to him living another day. He doesn’t need to think of anything because as soon as the black smoke surrounds him and Graves thinks, _this is it, this is where I die_. He thinks about all the things he should have done. He should have thought about all the ways Credence might interact, maybe then he wouldn’t be standing here waiting for the Obscurus to tear him apart. He could’ve planned this all a little bit more and now it’s all going to fail. Graves isn’t going to be there to protect Credence from the slow and painful inevitable death that he’s going to go through.

Credence’s short future flashes in front of Graves’ eyes. His lithe form collapsing from the intense attack of the Aurors, not completely succumbing to the darkness or the comfort that death will bring. Graves can only imagine what they would do next, he’s seen the interrogations of evil wizards and he’s been involved in quite a few of them. Graves would deny it if asked, but there are a handful of wizards that do not mind getting their wands a little bit dirty. These wizards would break Credence into something that would be easy to mould, maybe they would offer Credence a lease on a new life and, by doing this, he’d be lulled into a false sense of security where he’d follow every order given to him without any questions asked like a good loyal soldier. But it wouldn’t matter how subservient he is, they’d burn him from the inside out.

Graves’ own life flashes before his eyes and as it does, he thinks about how he hasn’t really done anything personally gratifying. Of course, he’s achieved professional success that some wizards can only dream of, but he hasn’t really succeeded in his personal life. The constant need to keep his personal and professional life separate has meant that he’s never really had the intimate relationships that others have had. He’s had relationships, but they’ve never lasted long. They can only be labelled as flings, a couple of nights of fun and then they’re gone and the space next to him is cold again.

But just as soon as the Obscurus attempts to ascend onto him, it reels back at Graves. It takes him a moment to realise that he’s not being torn limb from limb and that the black smoke of the Obscurus is in front of him. “Credence?” The Obscurus moves, its quick but Graves can see it. “Are you going to come back for me?” The smoke doesn’t make any kind of movement. “Come little one, I know you can come back for me.” The next ten seconds seems like a lifetime to Graves. The Obscurus suddenly moves around Graves, attempting to swallow him whole, but it can’t do that; _Credence can’t do that_. The black smoke of the Obscurus suddenly changes back into the form of Credence. The form drops onto the floor beside the bed and Graves is quick to kneel beside him, guiding Credence’s head into his lap. He begins to run his hand through Credence’s hair, the sweat from the whole experience is dampening his hair. Something within Graves becomes warm at the image of Credence in his lap like this, the little part of him that wants to care and protect Credence absolutely purrs at this whole thing.

A few minutes of petting and Credence’s eyes begin to flutter open. He’s looking straight at Graves and suddenly that feeling is blossoming in him again. He wants to let Credence curl into his arms and stay there forever. Graves would hurt anyone who even tried to get close to Credence.

“What was that Mr. Graves?”

Graves sighs. The warm feeling suddenly becomes something close to despair and he can sense the Obscurus within Credence simmer down when it realises that Graves is here.

Graves thinks: _this is gonna be harder than I thought._  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a while right? But here we are. enjoy
> 
> (disclaimer - there is a lot of shushing)

As soon as Graves says it, he can feel the monster within begin to distort and shape. Credence can feel himself becoming the monster, he can see thick wisps of smoke pour out of him. He opens his mouth to attempt to warn Mr. Graves of the monster. To tell him to run or get ready to fight, but thick black smoke falls from his mouth. He’s too afraid, not for himself but for Mr. Graves. He doesn’t want to come back from semi-consciousness and see him cold and lifeless.

He can see the smoke billowing around the older man. He can see Mr. Graves’ hesitation, he’s looking around for his wand, eyes scanning the room with fervour. There is a moment when Credence thinks the thing within him will attack Mr. Graves, but it hesitates.

Credence can feel it hesitate. He can feel it rethinking what plan he was going to undertake. And before he can thank the God above for that small hesitation, he fades into the silence.

***

The next time he opens his eyes, he’s looking up at the face of Mr. Graves. There is a worried look on his face and Credence wants so much to drown in that worry, to just know that someone cares about him and cares about what happens to him. The older man’s soft eyes are looking down at him and Credence can feel the man’s hand stroking through his hair. The hand in his hair is comforting. It reminds him of images he’s seen of proud fathers ruffling the hair of their children. He knows how wrong it is to liken this situation to those images and he knows how wrong it is to want to say the word to Mr. Graves now. He doesn’t say the word though, instead he just takes a moment to appreciate the touch.

As he’s looking up at Mr. Graves, he feels the urge to lean up and kiss those lips. Not a kiss to lead to those things that he’s seen a glimpse of in darkened alleyways, but just a kiss to show how much Credence loves the older man.

“What was that Mr. Graves?” That’s not exactly what he wanted to say. He wanted to apologise. He wanted to tell the older man that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Graves sighs above him. Credence can see the worry in his features be suddenly replaced by something else, something akin to relief, but just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know but I need you to tell me what you think just happened.”

Credence wants to say something different then what Mr. Graves wants from him, but he can tell from the tone of Graves’ voice that Credence has got to start talking.

He takes a breath. “The thing inside me. It c-came out.” He doesn’t want to look at Mr. Graves’ face. He doesn’t want to see the disgust written all over his face. “I think it w-wanted to hurt you.” The hand in his hair stops for a moment, but it starts up again soon after. The thing within him keens at the soothing touch of Mr. Graves. “I don’t know what happened, but I thought you might die. I thought it wanted to kill y-you.” His voice falters over the last word and the image of Mr. Graves’ lifeless body comes back to his mind. “But I t-think it might l-like you, Mr. Graves.”

“Why? What makes you think that?”

He takes another breath. “Because I think, it doesn’t want to h-hurt you.”

“Anything else to say little one?” The dreams flash in front of his eyes. He tries to hide any emotions from his face but he’s obviously not quick enough. He closes his eyes, takes a steady breath. He thinks about what he should say but his little inner speech is interrupted by Mr. Graves. “Credence?” Another steady breath. The silence around him is making him feel very uneasy. “Open your eyes for me.” He doesn’t want to open his eyes and see Mr. Graves is using the soft tone that Credence only ever thinks he uses for him. So, he opens his eyes. The older man is looking down at him with concern. “There we are little one. Tell me what you were thinking about.”

Credence looks at those eyes staring at him and the monster within keens. “I’ve been having these dreams Mr. Graves.”

“What are the dreams about?”

Credence stares at the space above Mr. Graves’ head. He takes another breath. “You.” He closes his eyes again, not wanting to see the disgust written on the older man’s features. He can feel the monster within attempting to clamber out, its clawing at Credence’s insides but he tells it to stop.

He hears Mr. Graves take a breath. “Me? What was I doing?”

“Sometimes I dream of you and the monster”- he watches as the older man flinches at the word – “and you use it.”

“And how do I use it, little one?”

An image of Credence on his knees at Mr. Graves feet comes to his mind. He wills it away before the blush builds up and he must give answers to questions he’s not yet prepared for. “You control it.” At Graves’ confused look, he continues. “You use its power, and it lets you.” He attempts to sit up and get as far away from Graves as he possibly can, but the older man stops him from going anywhere with a hand on his chest. “In the dreams, you” – he takes a breath – “you m-make it listen to you. It wants to be good for you.” He lets his voice drop to a whisper. “I want to be good for you.”

Before he even has time to realise what’s happening, Graves’ lips are on his. The kiss is gentle, Credence doesn’t really know what he should be doing but when he tries to push forward, Graves’ hand is pressing hard on his chest, pushing him away. Credence can hear a moan and it takes a moment for him to realise that the sound is coming from him. He wants to get closer. He wants to grab at the older man’s hair and tug him closer. He wants to run his fingers that perfectly placed hair until it’s a mess. He wants them both panting for breath, wants them to share each other’s breath. But Graves’ hand is still at his chest, it’s keeping him exactly in place.

“You are good Credence. You are good for me.” He grabs Credence’s hand. “Can you stand for me?” Credence does, lets Mr. Graves guide him up before standing himself. He guides Credence to the bed, pushes him until Credence is sitting on the edge of the bed. “Is that all about the dreams? Or is there more, little one?”

Credence wants to say _no, that’s it Mr. Graves. The monster likes you. Can we get back to doing sinful things?_ Instead, what comes out is, “I’ve been h-having thoughts Mr. Graves.” He bows his head. He doesn’t want to feel the older man’s disgust and hate. “They are s-sinful thoughts.”

Credence can feel Mr. Graves’ hand at his chin, tilting it upward until he comes to those soft brown orbs. He watches as the older man sits beside him, grabs at Credence’s hand and begins to rub circles into his palm.

“Tell me about them, little one.”

He takes a breath, doesn’t look away from Mr. Graves. “I keep thinking about your hands. About what it would be like if they were marking me.” There is no clear shock on the older man’s face, so he continues. “I think about those hands u-undressing me.” Graves stands suddenly. The movement is swift. It reminds Credence of the movements of his Ma, how swift she moves just before she begins hitting him. “I’m s-sorry Mr Graves.”

The older man shushes him. His fingers trail down his neck. The touch is gentle and Credence can’t help but lean into the touch. The fingers go to his shirt buttons. “Is this what you want Credence?” He nods and the fingers continue their movements. Graves opens each shirt button slowly, his fingers touching at the skin. When the shirt is completely unbuttoned, he pushes it off Credence’s shoulders. His fingers touch the skin and then Graves is digging his nails in, dragging them down his chest. Credence gasps at the sudden burst of pain. “Too much?” He stutters out a meek ‘no’. The older man repeats the action, this time a little bit harder. He traces the fresh marks with his fingertips. “What else have you been thinking about little one?”

He takes another steady breath. “I think about y-you k-kissing me. Not like b-before though. You’re not as g-gentle.”

Mr Graves gives him a thoughtful look. “Lay on the bed for me Credence.” He does. The older man studies him for a second, before straddling him. Credence wants so much to make some sort of noise but he doesn’t want Mr Graves to stop what he’s doing. He bites his lip hard, aiming to stop any noise from escaping. “None of that Credence.” The older man’s finger traces over his bottom lip, Credence can feel the bumps and grooves of Graves’ fingers, the indentations are testaments to the work that Graves’ does. He taps gently once, waits until Credence takes the hint to stop biting. He leans down, licks at the younger man’s lobe and Credence whimpers. “That’s better. Don’t hide your sounds from me baby boy.” He bites at the lobe, Credence takes a breath as Graves licks over the bite. He trails soft bites on Credence’s jawline before tracing his fingers across Credence’s lips again.

Hi kisses Credence then, not as gentle as their first meeting, it’s not soft or gentle. Graves is demanding, he bites at Credence’s bottom lip and when the younger man gasps, Graves takes the moment to devour his mouth. He maps Credence’s mouth with his tongue, tasting everything that he can reach. Credence grabs at the older man’s hand tentatively and he feels Mr Graves smile into the kiss.

What Credence lacks in skill and experience, he more than makes up for it in enthusiasm. He isn’t placid, he tries to fight Graves for control. And although his touches are gentle, like he’s afraid to do the wrong thing, he gages Graves’ reactions. There is a moment when the older man stops kissing him, as if he’s thinking about something and Credence feels the fear building up within him. He tries to get away, but then Graves is kissing him again and all the fear dissipates.

Mr Graves tugs at his lips, bites down hard enough that he’s sure that he’ll taste blood. When the older man comes up for air, he looks down at him and there is a sparkle in his eyes. “What else do you want?” Mr Graves is leaning down and before Credence can voice a protest, he feels wetness around his nipple. He can hear himself whimpering. “Tell me, little one.”

He brings his arm to his face, hides his eyes from Mr Graves. He doesn’t want to see Mr Graves’ reaction to what sinful thing he craves. “I want”- he takes a breath, hopes that it steadies his nerves – “I want you t-to tell me what y-you are going to do t-to m-me.” He can hear Graves’ whispered ‘oh’ and he can feel blood rushing to his cheeks. He can feel the older man’s gaze on him. “I’m sorry.”

Graves shushes him. Credence can feel the man’s fingers trace over the arm that’s covering his face. “Ask me nicely, little one.” The fingers keep tracing, so gently that it’s becoming ticklish and he fights the urge to giggle at the movement. “Look at me Credence, beg me for what you want, _boy._ ” He moans, the sound falls out of him before he has time to stop it. “Oh? You like that?” The fingers on his arm are suddenly pressing at the skin and Credence knows there are going to be finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow. “Let me see you.”

The softness in the older man’s voice forces Credence to move his arm. The smile on Graves’ face reminds him of the pride that he sees on the faces of the rich men when their sons do something meaningful. “Good boy.” Graves leans down, Credence can feel teeth nibbling at his lobe. “Now beg.”

“Please M-Mister Graves. I want you to tell m-me what you w-want to do t-to m-me. To your boy please.”

“You beg so prettily Credence” The older man’s voice has dropped an octave. He wants to wrap himself in that tone and never leave the world of Mr Graves again. “But you can do better. Tell me, what’s the magic word?”

Credence’s mind goes through a thousand different scenarios. His first though is to beg, in the same way that he begs for God up above to give him some sort of repentance. Unlike the omnipotent being above, Mr Graves may deliver whatever he begs for. His mouth wants to form the word ‘sir’, he can feel his mouth try to form words but that isn’t what happens.

“ _Daddy._ Please Daddy. Tell me, _please_.” As soon as he says the words, it feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. The older man looks at him with a fire in his eyes and Credence can feel the darkness – _the Obscurial_ \- preening beneath that glare.

“Aren’t you a good boy?” Credence can feel his hand trace down his chest before pinching at his nipples. He tries to move away from the harsh touch but Graves’ arm is at his stomach, keeping him pinned. He can feel restraints around his wrist appear.  “That’s not what good boys do. Take what I give you and be a good boy.” The movement is repeated, but this time Credence stays still. “Good. I’m so lucky to have such a sensitive little creature. Now I think my boy wanted something, yes?” Credence doesn’t trust his voice so he just nods instead. “Arms up.” He follows the order and with one swift movement, Credence’s arms are being tied to the headboard. Before Credence can even object to the action, Graves is licking into his mouth, devouring and tasting. He doesn’t have time to kiss back before Mr Graves is gone. “I could spend hours kissing you, little one.” Graves is off him then, lying beside Credence. He whines, tries to tell Mr Graves to come back but the older man, but the restraints around his wrists tighten. “Be still, little one.”

The older man’s hands trail across Credence’s chest, gently pressing into the bruises that are littering his skin. “I can’t wait to mark you up. You’re going to look so pretty with my bites on your skin.” Credence can’t help but to moan at that, the image of Graves spending hours biting and licking at his skin, until little purple bruises form. “It’s good that you like being mine. Tell me, who do you belong to?”

“You daddy”

“Good boy.” Credence can feel something sinful building within him. He keens at the feeling, he wants to be touched by Mr Graves. “Oh? Is my boy close?” Credence doesn’t know what that means but the thing within him nods and purrs. “Are you going to come like this? Humping the air like a wanton little _slut_?” He whines, he can feel the pressure building within him. “Go on then. Come for me.” With a stuttered groan, Credence sees stars and the thing within him purrs. “Look at you, making a mess.” Credence whines. He feels sticky and dirty, all he wants is to wash all the grime off and pray for forgiveness.

He watches as Mr Graves, with a flourish of his hands, makes the restraints around his wrists disappear. He gently massages his wrists. With another dramatic hand movement, the stickiness is gone.

“You did so well, little one.” Mr Graves is moving him so that he’s lying on his side. The older man’s arms are wrapping around him, keeping him safe and secure. “Sleep little one. We’ll talk in the morning.”  


End file.
